


Saying Yes

by fabrega



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Crack, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-23
Updated: 2006-12-23
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:58:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega
Summary: Wes stops in front of Wedge's desk and puts his hands down on the edge purposefully. "I want a puppy."





	Saying Yes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written & posted on LJ in 2006, moved to AO3 in December 2018 with minor edits for clarity.

Wedge Antilles looks at his desk proudly. Everything is squared away; every sheet of flimsi is stacked in a neat pile, and his datapad says that he has nothing left to deal with for today. It's time to go home and collapse into a heap on his bed while eating the tasty, crunchy fried things his food prep apparently learned how to make on its own yesterday.

The door to his office opens and in stalks Wes Janson, with Hobbie Klivian close behind. Wedge sighs. He shouldn't even have thought about going home.

Wes stops in front of Wedge's desk and puts his hands down on the edge purposefully. "I want a puppy."

Hobbie rolls his eyes. "Please tell him he can't have a puppy."

"Wes, you can't have a puppy," Wedge repeats. To Hobbie, he asks, "Where is this coming from?"

"I have no idea." Hobbie shrugs helplessly. "But he won't shut up about it."

"Come on, Wedge, I _need_ a puppy!" Wes pleads. "I'll walk him and feed him and play with him and his name will be Randall."

"Randall." Wedge sighs. "Wes, you don't need a puppy. You have an astromech. You don't need to feed it or clean up after it, and it helps you fly your X-wing. You can even call it Randall if you like."

"It's not the same," Wes pouts.

Wedge tries again. "You have Hobbie; he's sort of like a puppy. He follows you around and looks mournful when you kick him." He ignores the glare Hobbie aims at him.

Wes pouts some more. "He looks mournful all the time and he won't fetch sticks."

Wedge can almost hear Hobbie mentally counting to ten before he explodes. He decides to try another tactic. "Wes, a puppy is a big responsibility," he says slowly, as though he's speaking to a child.

In return, Wes shoots him an angry look. "Don't treat me like I'm five, Wedge."

"Then stop acting like it!"

Janson scrunches up his face and sticks his tongue out at Wedge, who finds himself doing the same in retaliation. They do this, back and forth, for about five seconds before Hobbie clears his throat meaningfully and, slightly embarrassed, Wedge forces himself to stop. This doesn't keep Wes from getting in one last face.

"Seriously, Wes, I think the cards are stacked against you here. There's no good way to take care of a pet the size of a puppy when you're traipsing around the galaxy at the whim of the New Republic Navy. According to regulations, pets not in cages aren't allowed on-base. And say you do get your puppy. What happens if, stars forbid, you don't come back one day? What's to become of your poor, mournful-looking puppy then?"

Wedge hates the way Wes' face falls. He's getting used to the look--he got it when he told Wes he couldn't requisition the parts to build a hot tub at their last base, and when he told Wes that they couldn't just up and take a whole X-wing squadron on a holiday to a world with lots of beaches and expect no one to notice they had gone, and when he told Wes that there wasn't _really_ a jolly fat man who traveled around the galaxy bringing toys to children one night a year.

(That had been a long conversation, one that made Wedge vow never to have kids, or at least that if he did, he would never lie to them about anything.)

But the point was, the point was that these were things that shouldn't have upset Wes. Somewhere in his mind, grownup-Janson had to know that there was no way Wedge could say yes to these things. He shouldn't look like Wedge had just broken his heart.

"Are you sure there isn't some way--" Wes begins, but a sharp look from Hobbie cuts him off. The two of them leave, and Wedge falls into his desk chair, even more exhausted than before.

\---

Shortly after the next supply ship comes in, there is a knock at the door of Wedge's office. He runs a tired hand over his face; no doubt something's gone wrong with their food requisitions again and he'll have to try to sort it out long-distance for the fourth time in three months. This is starting to get very old.

The door opens and in strides Janson, cradling some sort of cage in his arms. "Wedge," he beams, "He's _perfect_."

Wedge comes out from behind his desk to examine the creature in the cage. From a distance, it looks like a small brown rat, but up close he can tell: it's a tiny puppy. He grins at Wes. It had taken some searching--not "scouring the galaxy" exactly, but close--and he'd had to pull some strings, but here, finally, was something he didn't have to tell Wes no about.

"Is his name Randall?" he asks, still grinning.

"Of _course_ ," Wes replies, setting the cage down on the desk and, quickly, kissing his commanding officer full on the lips. Surprised, Wedge flails a bit, then laughs and pushes Wes away--but, he supposes, at least everybody's happy.


End file.
